


queen of no identity

by owlvsdove



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-19 02:44:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3593388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlvsdove/pseuds/owlvsdove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grant brings Kara to Jemma for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. queen of no identity

**queen of no identity.**  
a living myth. a real fake.

 

 

“Mack, get Fitz out _now_ ,” Jemma bites, gun and eyes trained on the intruder.

“What?” Fitz is protesting, panicking, but a sharp look from May and Mack does what he’s told, literally picking up Fitz and getting him out of the lab. Once the door swings shut Jemma speaks.

“You remember what I said to you,” she growls. It’s not a question.

“Yes.” His hands are up. He’s doing that _thing_ he does, the low-toned pleading, the appeal. “I didn’t come here out of disrespect for that. But this is more important.”

“Skye’s not here,” May says disparagingly.

“I know,” Ward says. “That’s why I came now. This is not a trick; this is not about her.”

“That’s hard to believe.”

“I know. And I’ll leave as soon as you hear me out.”

“You know we can’t let you leave here,” Jemma says.

“Yes, but May knows that there’s no way I’d come in without an exit route.”

Jemma’s eyes slide over to May, and she looks frustrated yet resigned.

“Talk,” May says.

“You remember Agent 33,” Ward says, gesturing towards the woman standing behind him, still wearing May’s face, who has been largely unresponsive this whole time.

“How could I forget,” May says gruffly.

“She has something to say.”

She moves forward. She’s shaking a little, and that feels strange. Before she was a HYDRA puppet she was one of SHIELD’s finest. Now?

“My name is Kara Lynn Palamas. Dr. Whitehall brainwashed me, but I’m free now. I want my face back, and Grant says you can give it to me.”

She’s looking at Jemma. Jemma looks at May.

But May has noticed Trip slipping in through the door behind the two fugitives, gun drawn. She has to make a choice now. They all do.

“Trip,” May says, alerting the others to his presence. “Take Palamas to Koenig for questioning.” Then she looks her in the eyes. “We’ll try and figure something out. But first we need to know if you’re lying or not.”

Palamas swallows this, like something she expected but doesn’t necessarily like.

“What about Ward?” Trip says, not wanting to leave them alone with him.

“We’ll handle him.”

Trip knows better than to question May, so he holds his tongue and guides 33 out of the room by the point of his gun.

“How much damage are you going to cause, Ward?” May asks. She’s getting a little rougher now that there’s only one target.

“None.”

Jemma laughs. Actually laughs. May peeks at her and there are tears in her eyes. This just turned from bad to worse.

Ward’s eyes flick to Jemma and he seems mournful in some far-off way, but they all know there’s very little he could say right now to change what’s happening. It’s a stampede, animals where there shouldn’t be, and the big marble columns of the temple are crumbling.

“You don’t have a reason to trust me, I know that,” Ward says. He’s addressing her specifically. “You don’t have a reason not to shoot me on the spot either. But I told Kara I’d help her and that’s what I’m trying to do.”

“So you had to come here?”

“Who else in the world could do this?” he reasons.

“A doctor, a real doctor—”

“You have experience with the...atypical. And I trust you,” he says.

“You shouldn’t.”

And May knows it’s over then. Because you can’t not trust Jemma Simmons. She’s trying so hard to be something formidable, something dark and vicious. But she can’t howl loud enough to scare Ward off. There are too many demons gripping his insides. To many dark spots on his record. She will fight and snarl and pitch against him, and he will stand stock still and take it. And it could go on forever.

“We’ll help her,” May says. Both their heads swing towards her. “But we have some terms.”

“You don’t need to talk to Coulson first?” he challenges.

“You know Coulson’s not here. That’s also why you chose now.”

“That might’ve influenced me a bit.”

May fights the urge to roll her eyes at him. “The surgery won’t take place on this base. You and 33 will wait in the vault while we set something else up. Then we’ll transport you there, do the surgery, and we go our separate ways. Just this once.”

He pauses, considering this.

Well, probably pretending to consider this. He’s a strategist. He knows her primary objective is to get him away from her agents, or, failing that, to lock him up. This takes care of both those things.

“You remember that I have an exit strategy, if you don’t keep up your end of the deal,” he says, moving forward fists first to be manacled.

“I remember.”

“Then we have a deal.” He stops in front of her.

She watches his eyes for a long moment before holstering her weapon. She has no doubt she can take him down if she needs to. But Jemma’s still in the room, shaking and holding a revolver, and May would rather not add that to the mix.

She fixes the handcuffs around him and then tilts her chin forward ahead of her. He goes.

  

 

 

 

“I can’t believe you sent us out of the room.”

Fitz is howling like a wounded thing, reeling back like he got too close to the fire.

“Who do you think you are, Simmons? You can’t handle Ward!”

“Neither can you!” she cuts. And he realizes then that someone must’ve told her what happened. Maybe she even watched the footage from the vault. Maybe it made her cry. Maybe it—

“You’re going to help her?” he says, a lot quieter.

“Yes. And I’ll do it with your help or without.”

He looks at her for a long moment. This is the kind of thing that supposed to heal them.

He won’t yield.

“Without.”

And he’s out the door again. 

 

 

 

 

Coulson and Skye are completely out of contact, deep cover. There’s a big question about if Skye’s actually coming back with him, but for now they’re both safe and away.

“I prefer it that way,” May says. “They don’t need to know about this until after it’s over.”

“Or until it goes horribly wrong,” Jemma mutters.

“Or that.”

“Or maybe ever.”

“Simmons.”

“Right.”

“Do you have an approach?” May asks.

“I’ve been considering a few things. It seems like it’s fused to her epidermis, melted when she was electrocuted,” Jemma says, ignoring May’s chagrin. She casts her x-rays aside. “But I’ve considering perhaps not taking it out, just switching it off somehow. At least when she looks in the mirror, it’ll be her face that looks back.”

May thinks that over. “Do you need Fitz’s help for that?”

“Fitz won’t help me. And no, I don’t.”

“Are you just saying that, or—?”

“I can do it, May. I promise.” She says it so fiercely May’s brow betrays an ounce of surprise.

Ward said she could do it.

So now apparently she can do it.

“Simmons. Simmons, look at me. If this is too much, we can—”

“I need to do this.”

And she sinks further into science like an ostrich in the sand.

 

 

 

 

“It was weird seeing the Koenigs again,” Kara says. She’s lying flat on a makeshift operating table. She seems chatty. Probably the only one with enough sense to try and cut the tension like blood smothering the room.

“Finally found someone who agrees with me on how strange they are,” Trip says, smiling like nothing’s wrong. He’s on his way out the door though, so Jemma shoots him a dirty look. “Good luck!” he calls.

The door swings shut.

Trip’s going to keep the plane warm for them.

Ward is not handcuffed. He is looming largely over the table, leaving a shadow over Kara’s middle. He’s not a fidgeter, but if he was he’d be doing it now.

Jemma picks up a scalpel and he seizes. “Be careful,” he chokes.

Jemma gives him a dirty look as well. “Did you think for a moment there that I wasn’t being careful, Ward?”

“Sorry.”

May watches the scene from the door, standing guard. This almost feels like the bickering from the old days. But that feels so long ago; and May was less aware then. She was focused on other pieces of the puzzle. In fact, she can’t even recall the specifics about what made Grant himself or Jemma herself when they were together.

Maybe they were always like this.

But no, the edges are too worn. Too much fire. Too much ice.

Jemma has the schematics for the mask up on a lightboard for her reference, and she scans it once more.

Then she makes her mark.

She lets the pads of her fingers trace Kara’s face, looking for a seam, looking of a failsafe or a trigger or a killswitch. Anything that could be manipulated.

Jemma is soft, so soft. And Grant is holding his breath, like he can feel it.

She pauses, and then something in her wicks; she grins. She’s found something. Something she can actually work with.

And no one can look away.

 

 

 

 

Kara cries when she sees her face.

She still has the scar over her eye, and a few other places where burns have healed raw and gnarled, but it isn’t Melinda May. It isn’t the woman she fought. It is her. Long in hiding, but back again. Her expression is an embrace of her old self. Her real self.

Grant and Jemma stand shoulder to shoulder in the doorway, watching her watch herself.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

Jemma stays silent, because none of the words that come near to escaping feel right.

She backs out of the room to sit down.

 

 

 

 

“You did a good thing, Simmons,” May says.

Jemma clutches her knees, near retching. She can’t catch a breath, she can’t feel anything, she’s lost and she feels too much to be dead. She’s drowning. She’s drowning again.

“Why is this happening?” she croaks out.

May’s face is blurry, but she looks like so many things. Kaleidoscopic through her tears, anguish, melancholy, but no surprise.

“Fixing this one thing doesn’t fix what’s really broken.”

Jemma holds on for dear life.

 

 

 

 

At some point May tells Trip to turn the plane off, and the five of them sit together in the safe house, halfway across the world from the rest of the team. Jemma sits on the couch between Grant and Trip, pillars framing her smallness. The one that left and the one that stayed. She’s still clutching her knees but the tears have dried.

“I don’t think I’ve said thank you yet,” Kara says softly.

“You have,” May says. “Multiple times.”

Kara almost smirks. They were never friends at SHIELD but Jemma can see that they might’ve been.

“Thank you for not shooting us on sight, at least,” Kara replies.

Jemma frowns.

“How has it come to this,” she murmurs. “We’re being thanked for not being brutal.”

May opens her mouth to speak but someone else gets there first.

“That’s my fault,” Grant says, barely above a whisper. Jemma looks up at him.

“That’s HYDRA’s fault,” May corrects. “HYDRA forced our hand.”

“This is not what SHIELD is supposed to be,” Trip says. “It wasn’t like this the first time around. But times change. Maybe this is who we are now.”

“I don’t want it to be this way,” Jemma whispers.

“I want to help,” Kara says suddenly. Grant locks eyes with her and she looks back, stronger. “We want back in. We want to help SHIELD.”

“Why?” Jemma asks. “Didn’t you hear what I just said?”

“You’re the good guys,” Kara says. “I want to be good again.”

 “You’d be a good asset, Palamas. But I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” May says. She can sense a conflict coming and she wants to ride it instead of drown in it.

“Why not? I’ve got my face back, Grant’s almost completely healed up. We can do this.”

The room freezes, and Grant lets out the quietest of sighs.

May needs to handle this as delicately as possible. She doesn’t know why she feels that need, but she will follow it.

“Coulson won’t let Ward come back, no matter what any of us says,” she remarks quietly. She slips a look to Grant. He knows. He already knew this.

“I’ve been trying to talk her out of it,” he says instead.

“Wait,” Trip says. “Did you say ‘healed up?’ What happened to you?”

Ward looks chagrinned. Kara speaks up: “Skye shot him.”

May seems to know this already, but Jemma and Trip are left in open-mouthed shock.

“Let me see,” Jemma demands, and the two of them lean over Ward until he lifts his shirt.

“Man, that still needs a bandage,” Trip grimaces.

“Have I taught you nothing? It’s probably infected!” Jemma crows.

“It’s fine,” he mutters.

“Get up on the table so we can take a look at you,” Trip orders. Grant sighs and does what he’s told.

The three of them move to the other side of the room to take care of Ward and Kara looks at May. “Did you see that?”

“Yes.”

“He wants to be with them again. He misses them. And they miss him,” Kara pushes.

“How much do you know about what happened?” May asks.

“Enough. I know he was serving a master when he betrayed you. I know he was trying to save them when he dropped them in the ocean. I know he regrets a lot of things,” Kara lists. “What do you know?”

“The same.”

“Then why can’t he come back? Why can’t we both come back?”

May’s eyes are drawn over to the three of them, fussing and bickering.

“Because fixing this one thing doesn’t fix what’s really broken.”

 

 

 

 

“We should have left a long time ago,” May says, stark words, clipped and even. Night has fallen and Grant is patched and Kara is herself again. They should leave now.

But still. She hasn’t commanded the troops yet. She’s just stating a fact.

“I’m sure they would’ve called if they needed us,” Trip says easily. “Nothing wrong with taking a little personal time.”

Personal. Yeah, this feels personal.

“So,” Kara begins. She’s falling back into old rhythms. “Have you made a decision?” Straight to the point.

“Yes. Hours ago. We’ve talked about this already.”

“Some would call me tenacious.”

May almost smirks. “I can see.”

“May’s not messing around though,” Trip says. “There’s no way Coulson would let Ward back on the base. You on your own, maybe, but—”

“I’m not going without him.”

“I told you—” Ward starts, but he’s cut off immediately.

“Shut your damn mouth, Grant. That’s not how I operate,” Kara demands.

Strong and loyal. Tenacious. She’s making grand plays; she’s choosing who to be, and she’s doing it right in front of them.

“Wait,” Jemma murmurs. No one waits.

“I’m telling you,” Trip says. “Coulson won’t allow it.”

“It’s a matter of trust,” May adds.

“I know that, which is why I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Ward says.

“Wait,” Jemma says louder.

The room hushes.

“They don’t have to come back to the base.”

“What do you mean?” May asks, leaning forward.

“They can do what Lance used to do! Consultants.”

“Tiny, Lance was a _contractor_ ,” Trip corrects.

“He told me he consulted with clients on—oh. Okay. Nevermind. It still applies though! The two of you could be contractors. You could work on longer jobs, go undercover, recruit. Help people.” She sounds amazed, winded by the idea. They don’t have to lose this one. Everyone can survive.

“Interesting,” Trip murmurs. Grant looks like he’s been struck with something.

“Simmons...Coulson would never go for that either,” May says softly. Always the bearer of bad news.

“Because he doesn’t trust Ward,” Jemma says.

“Yes.”

“Let me worry about that,” Jemma says. May raises her eyebrows. “Kara, how does that sound to you?”

“I could live with that,” she nods. “Grant?”

Ward says nothing. He looks at Jemma.

“You can be good _and_ free,” Jemma says. The words come out of her and she’s not sure where they came from. But she feels understanding in her chest, and Ward inhales. “They aren’t mutually exclusive.”

Because he just became free, didn’t he? They both did. Kara and Grant don’t want to take orders. They just want to help.

Grant nods.

Jemma looks back to May. She’ll find a way.

 


	2. a living myth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma tries to find her way back to Ward and Kara.

queen of no identity.  
 **a living myth.** a real fake.

  


 

“How’d it go?” Mack asks. He and Fitz are waiting there as they arrive - Mack neutral and Fitz as though he somehow ended up there rather than came willingly.

“She did it,” Trip says proudly. “Agent 33 is back to her old self.”

“Well done, Simmons,” Mack says, and Jemma smiles.

“So you did it without me,” Fitz says abruptly. Jemma’s smile leaves. “I guess we don’t need each other anymore.”

She doesn’t deserve this, and part of her is screaming about it, screaming long and loud and enough to tear him to pieces. But instead she lets him hang himself.

“I guess we don’t.”

“Fitz, come on, man,” Mack groans.

“I don’t help our enemies!” Fitz growls.

“Kara is not our enemy,” Jemma retorts.

“Ward is!” He shouts back.

Jemma breathes. Jemma breathes for a long time. She takes a step closer and dares him not to step back in fear. “Maybe you don’t help our enemies. Maybe SHIELD doesn’t either. But when it’s this important? I do.”

“Girl, come on,” Trip says. Someone needs to disengage them.

“I’m not going to shoot first and ask later,” she mutters to the floor. “Not anymore, not ever again.”

Skye’s been away a long while.

Too long, really.

“I’ll help whoever needs it. That’s what SHIELD is supposed to be for.”

“Simmons,” May says softly. She had been watching from afar for just a little too long.

Jemma looks up.

“I’ll talk to Coulson.”

“Really?”

“I’ll talk to Coulson for you.”

Jemma feels a triumphant surge in her chest. She can do something with this. She can accomplish something with this.

“Talk to Coulson about what?” Mack asks.

Jemma can’t help but feel a tiny bit smug as she stares Fitz down. “Our enemies helping us.”

 

 

 

 

“I’m not comfortable with this.”

“Which is what I told her,” May assures. “But you know Simmons. She won’t let this go.”

“Why does she want to leave again?”

Coulson sounds so confused. The first time Jemma left, he understood. Things with Fitz were...messy. But why now, when things are looking up for them?

Because things are not actually looking up for them.

“Because she wants to do something more constructive than sit in the lab and be lied to by her friends.”

It’s a little more biting than she intended, of course.

“She is doing something constructive. She’s working. She’s the head of Science and Technology.”

Incredulous.

“Phil—”

“I’m not letting Ward anywhere near one of us,” he interrupts. “I can’t even believe you would suggest it.”

“I saw Ward.”

“And you trust him?”

May opens her mouth. And closes it.

“That’s what I thought.”

“I don’t trust Ward,” she says. “But I trust Palamas. And I trust Jemma.”

“And you really think 33 is going to protect her from Ward if he turns the tide?” he asks. He’s pacing now. The idea is working through his bones in a way he isn’t comfortable with.

“Simmons gave Kara her life back. That’s a bond you don’t really throw away.”

“But she’d be defenseless.” He stops and looks to May now. This is valuable, sure; but he’s finally stopping to think twice about how much Jemma can actually handle.

“We have time to train her the right way this time.”

He looks her dead in the eye. “You believe she can do this.”

“Yes.”

He nods, looks to the floor.

“I’ll talk to her.”

 

 

 

 

Coulson doesn’t make trips to the lab. Usually.

“This is insane, you know,” he says to her, and Jemma looks up with a start. Coulson tries to say it softly enough so the boys don’t hear, but they do anyway.

“I know.” She really does know.

“They could turn on you at any moment. Slit your throat in your sleep, shoot you and leave you for dead. They could double-cross all of us.”

“I know,” she repeats.

“I just wonder how much you’ve really thought about this.”

Jemma says nothing. She turns around to find the lab table behind her and picks up a rather large file, just to set it down in front of Coulson a little louder than necessary.

She raises an eyebrow.

He almost smiles at her.

“Let’s talk in my office.”

 

 

 

 

“Hello?”

“Kara.”

“Nice to hear from you, Jemma.”

“One month from today, you’ll receive a time and a set of coordinates from me. I’ll meet you there and the three of us will get to work. Does that sound alright?”

Kara looks at Grant, who seems to be holding his breath down the counter from her.

“That sounds perfect to me.”

 

 

 

 

“I read your plan,” May says, in the same casual way a shark might stalk its prey.

“What did you think?” Jemma pants back, not losing a beat as the punching bag comes swinging back.

“It was very thorough. When did you start writing it?”

“Last week.”

May stops the bag.

“Don’t lie to me, Simmons. You still aren’t good at it.”

Jemma tries to catch her breath. “A long time ago.”

“When you got back from HYDRA?”

She shakes her head. “Before I went to HYDRA, before the pod, before Ward. The night I came home from the Hub.”

May stares at her, so Jemma keeps talking: “I knew we needed to go looking for these people at some point, so I kept it in my back pocket.”

“It didn’t always include Ward and 33 though,” May probes.

“Just me.”

“You don’t have to do everything alone, Simmons.”

“Yes, I do, May.” She stops trying to punch, letting her big-gloved hands fall to her sides. “This isn’t about the team. I have to take control of something. I have to—”

“I know.” May sighs. “That’s exactly what I told Coulson.”

Jemma looks down, trying not to cry.

“I love you, May.”

“Stop.”

“I won’t.” Jemma launches herself at May, a sweating sniffling mess.

“It’s okay,” May says, trying to breathe some composure into her. “It’s all going to be okay.”

 

 

 

 

Skye is surrounded by darkness - or at least she seems that way on the computer screen. The light from her screen is the only thing that’s making it possible for Jemma to see her.

“I heard you’re leaving again.”

“It’s not a secret this time,” Jemma affirms.

“That must feel nice,” Skye says, almost teasing. “Not having to lie.”

“Yeah, I suppose it does.” Jemma takes a big breath. “Did Coulson—”

“He told me what you’re doing.”

Jemma stays silent. She’s terrified. She doesn’t want to upset Skye but she’s not going to stop, and frankly Jemma can’t lose another friend. She just can’t.

“I don’t trust him.”

“I know.”

“But...we’re all doing dangerous things lately.”

Skye’s gone now. Indefinitely. They all snatched up their hearts and hid them away when they heard.

“They’ll be my responsibility. I’m running the whole thing. And we’re only trying it out for a few weeks. Just to see if it’s worth pursuing further.”

“Sure, but in that time anything could happen, Jemma. Anything,” Skye says, voice breaking. There’s nothing in frame but Jemma can almost feel the rumble, even if she can’t see it.

“I’ll keep you updated. If you would like that, I mean.”

“I would,” Skye says quickly, and she leans closer. “I just. I can’t lose another friend.”

Jemma’s shoulders drop. “I was just thinking the same thing,” she murmurs.

She gets half a sad smile out of Skye before the screen goes dark.

  


 

 

 

“I’m not going to be there to save your ass,” Bobbi says, grinning over a beer.

“Oh, whatever will I do?”

“Me either,” Lance says. “I’m also not going to be there to save your ass or any other part of you.”

“When have you ever saved me from anything?” Jemma snorts.

“Please. Name one thing I _haven’t_ saved you from!”

“Boredom.”

Mack and Trip cackle.

“Aren’t you scared?” Bobbi presses.

“I probably should be, but...I just need to go and figure all of this out.”

“If I were you, I’d be terrified,” Bobbi says, taking another drink a little too deliberately, and Jemma rolls her eyes.

“Who’s paying you to talk me out of it?”

“Can’t a girl just be concerned?” Jemma doesn’t give in, so Bobbi flicks her eyes towards the doorway.

Fitz. Jemma looks away from him before she says anything. “Are you going to speak to me before I leave, then?”

He sits down next to her.

“I shouldn’t have said all that stuff to you.”

He says it like she’s the wolf that’s going to snap his hand off. As though for the last few months it wasn’t the other way around.

“No, you shouldn’t have.” She collapses in on herself, emotion as diverse and furious as the sun pulling her down. She drops down to a whisper: “I am so angry with you.”

“Is that why—is that. Is that why you’re leaving again? Um. Is it my fault again?” He can barely spit out the words, bitter to the taste but stuck in his head, in his mouth and lungs.

“No, Fitz. Last time I left because you needed me to. This time I’m leaving because I need to.”

His brows furrow. “I didn’t need you to leave.”

She nearly rolls her eyes, huffing in exasperation. Sick of this. “Yes, you did. You could barely speak to me! I was making you worse, so I left. So you could get better. And you did.”

And now he’s doing that thing again. The slack-jawed staring thing.

“What?” she snaps, self-conscious.

“I didn’t know that.”

“What do you mean you didn’t—oh.”

Oh.

Jemma comes to a sudden and desperate realization that everyone else is still in the room, not even bothering to pretend that they aren’t watching this unfold.

“You four. Out.”

“But it’s getting good!” Lance shouts, so Bobbi grabs him by the scruff of his neck and pulls him out of the chair so they can follow the others. The door clicks closed.

“You’re an idiot,” comes out of her mouth. Then: “We’re both idiots.”

“Uh huh.”

“Be very quiet and I’ll tell you everything,” she says, the words tumbling out in a rush. He nods, scoots a bit closer unconsciously. So she pulls his head until it’s resting on her shoulder, like it used to sometimes, and she speaks.

See, Fitz? You don’t have to feed the wolf. You don’t have to risk it. You just shouldn’t muzzle her when she howls.

  


  


 

 

“They’re on time,” May says.

“Like Kara would be late,” Jemma remarks. “This is all she wants. And Ward’s not usually tardy either.”

May hums in agreement, still staring through the binoculars.

“I’m going to stay until you give me the signal, but then after that you’re on your own.”

“I know.”

May pulls away to look at her. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I know.”

“You can hug me now.”

Jemma smiles.

  


  


  


  


“I can’t believe you came alone,” Ward blurts. “That’s dangerous.”

Jemma raises an eyebrow. “What exactly are you going to do to me?”

“Well, nothing, but—”

“Here are the terms,” Jemma starts, ignoring him. Almost like old times. “I’ve got a laundry list of things we can do for SHIELD. I’ll oversee everything and report to Coulson on your behalf.”

“He doesn’t even want to talk to us?” Kara asks.

“It’s easier for him to pretend he didn’t agree to this if he doesn’t have to see you,” Jemma says. No use sugar-coating it.

Kara snorts. “Alright then.”

“Other than that, you’re free. We’ll try out a few ops and see how they go before anything more permanent is put in place. That is your mission, should you choose to accept it.”

“I accept,” Kara nods.

Then Ward nods.

“This is going to be interesting,” Jemma says.

Grant sighs, eyeing her warily. "Where to first, boss?"

Jemma's smile is a little too rooted in megalomania. "We're going back to the Academy."

 

 


	3. a real fake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma, Ward, and Kara go back to the Academy.

queen of no identity.  
a living myth. **a real fake.**

 

 

The grounds are unkempt. Sci Tech is usually immaculate, and Ward and Kara agree that so is Ops. But the grass is uncut and there's litter tumbling through the sidewalks like confetti from the weary. Congratulations on continued existence.

"We'll have to comb through it building by building," Jemma murmurs, surveying the campus that was buzzing with excitement just a year ago.

"Should we split up?" Kara asks. Sci Tech is new to her. She doesn't know this place and therefore has no reason to fear what it might remember of her.

"Sure. Kara, start with the lecture halls. We'll take the dormitories. Rendezvous in two hours, and stay in contact."

Grant feels some amount of surprise that Jemma chose to keep him with her. Is it trust or mistrust that guides her actions? Does she desire protection or to keep a close eye?

He finds he doesn't really care.

They work their way up, snaking through each floor of abandoned dorm rooms. Perfectly preserved messes, half-baked inventions, equations written on the walls, but there are no people in sight.

There are no bodies either.

They do find blood, dried like paint on the walls and floors, but only in a few places. Enough to disturb but not overwhelm. The truth of it is, SHIELD as it exists today has no idea what's happened to the Academy. But if there's someone around to remember, they have to find them.

"Hall 1 is clear," Jemma radios as she and Ward make it to the top floor.

"I've made it through the first three buildings," Kara says back, static-marred but living and breathing. "Everything seems untouched. Like everyone just disappeared."

"That's what we have too," Jemma says, looking around once more. “It's all...”

“...Did you cut out?” Kara asks.

Jemma walks towards the far wall of the hallway for a moment and Grant's not sure what she's getting at. Until. “The cameras are still on,” he breathes.

“Meet us at the security point, on the west end of campus. Quick as you can, Kara,” Jemma says.

They run.

 

 

 

 

 

“If HYDRA is at Sci Tech,” he pants, “they know we're here already.”

“Why wouldn't they have converged then? We searched the whole building. I think it's something else.”

“Maybe the place is abandoned, but they're just still on,” Kara offers.

“Or,” Jemma breathes. “There are holdouts.”

“You can't seriously believe there are still Sci Tech kids here. Every single one of them would've gone home to their families or switched team,” Grant argues. “Those are the only logical options. Why would a bunch of kids stay here?”

Jemma shoots him a dark look. “Not all geniuses make logical decisions all of the time.”

“Like you joining us?” Kara asks.

“Like you going undercover,” Grant adds darkly, like the idea is sour in his mind.

“Like staying loyal to something important, even if you believe it doesn't exist anymore.” And Jemma looks at Grant, eyebrow raised. He shuts up.

“You really think they'd do that?” Kara asks. She sounds skeptical.

“Some of them. I remember what it was like to be here. It's hard to give up,” she says.

“Well,” Kara responds. “Let's find out.”

“On my count,” Ward says. “One...two...three.”

They burst into the security point, guns draw high.

It's empty.

“Well, that was anti-climactic,” Kara singes.

Jemma moves forward towards the camera bay and starts pushing buttons. “They all seem to be operational.”

“Callie,” Grant murmurs.

“What?”

He points to one of the screens. “Callie Hannigan.”

Jemma's gapes in shock. She was right. “And she's not alone.”

 

 

 

 

 

“Don't shoot!” Jemma shrieks. “Bloody hell!”

“Agent Simmons?” Callie breathes, starving look in her eyes.

“Where did you even get guns?!”

“We built them,” a tall boy behind Callie says roughly, meant to be intimidating. Jemma's own resident tall person shifts his stance and the boy shuts his mouth.

“I can't believe you're here,” Callie breathes. “We assumed...I mean. You're one of the top scientists.”

“Everyone's either HYDRA or dead,” the boy, blunt but sorrowful.

Jemma turns to either side of her to catch Kara's eyes, then Ward's.

“Not everyone.”

“I can't believe you're here,” Callie says, eyes shining, mouth twisting. This is not the overconfident girl they'd met a year ago. This is what time and tragedy does to people. “I can't believe you and Agent Ward are still working together. I can't believe anything's still intact.”

The three of them stiffen. “Ward and Palamas aren't agents anymore. But they're the good guys.”

“And you?”

“I'm still an Agent of SHIELD.”

“SHIELD still exists?” The boy presses.

Jemma nods.

Callie sighs in relief.

“How many of you are there here?” Grant asks.

“There are twelve of us left,” the boy answers.

“What's your name?”

“Thomas.”

Grant flinches. “What happened to everyone else?”

“Some people died, some escaped and went home. Most people joined HYDRA,” Thomas says.

There is a silence, and then Callie speaks, quiet as a whisper: “I joined HYDRA.”

“Callie?” Jemma prompts, concerned.

“I thought I should follow the science,” Callie says, trying desperately to explain. Begging for forgiveness. “The smart thing is to go where the work is, where you can actually make a difference. But I couldn't deal with what they did to Donnie, what they did to all of us.”

Jemma freezes at Donnie's name.

“Please,” Callie begs, thick with tears. “Please.”'

Jemma pulls her close, and all the will to stand tall leaves Callie, who curls into her chest and heaves.

“I'm afraid I have some bad news,” Jemma murmurs.

Callie pulls far enough away just to see her face. “What is it?”

Jemma’s eyes almost fall closed in shame before she forces a stare. “It’s about Donnie.”

 

 

 

 

 

He finds her sitting on the bed in one of the rooms the students cleared out for the three of them. Staring at the floor.

“What was that little comment about?” he asks.

She pretends not to know what he means, staying silent to draw it out of him.

“Staying loyal to something even if it doesn't exist anymore,” he quotes.

“You still love us. Even though we unlawfully imprisoned you and treated you like garbage. Even though we didn't help you when you needed it.”

Her chin's held high, like she's trying to face her crimes with dignity.

“ _You_ didn't treat me like garbage.”

She gives him a look. “I threatened to murder you.”

He sits down next to her. “I assumed you were joking.”

“Don't, Ward. Don't wave it away like it was some little thing.”

“I actually left you for dead, Simmons. We can call it even, if that's what you want.”

She looks down at the ground, swallowing everything. “How are you feeling?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

His fingers almost tremble to the scars on his wrist. But he's a professional. “Fine. I feel fine.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he promises. “Are _you_ okay?”

“Of course.”

“Callie—”

“Donnie's just another thing I have to live with, okay?” Jemma interrupts him, clamping shut. “There's really nothing to be said.”

“Who pulled the trigger?”

Jemma pauses. “I can't tell you that.”

“But it wasn't you.” She doesn't answer. “You, Fitz, Skye even. You all take the blame when it's not your fault.”

“So do you, you have no room to talk.”

“It's the one fault we all share.”

“I didn’t help Donnie when he needed me. My time in HYDRA was fruitless. I came back only to grate on Fitz and threaten you and push Skye away. I have plenty of blame to take, Ward.” She’s staying so still. Grant figures she picked that up from May. But Jemma’s forcing calm rather than finding it.

“You should check in with the Playground,” he says gently.

She nods. “You should make yourself scarce then.”

Because that’s the situation. It’s something they can live with.

 

 

 

 

 

The Sci Tech kids – 12 of them, like they said – have been doing a surprisingly efficient job and keeping their affairs in order.

There is a small group of haphazard graves dug now on the grounds behind the main auditorium, laser-cut placards with names and dates staked to the ground. Thomas says they've called as many families as they could. A few of them have been maintaining a radio frequency broadcasting to all other SHIELD outposts, waiting for response. Some of them continue the work they were doing – teaching each other, researching. Making weapons. Building defenses.

Jemma can hardly stomach some of it.

SHIELD proper had just assumed there was nothing left. But here are the holdouts. Waiting for a hand.

“We have a choice here, now. To be honest, I'm not sure what you all will choose.” They don't need someone to talk down to them. They just need Jemma.

Twelve faces watch her from around a conference table, situated in one of the professors' only quarters. Jemma had only been allowed in here once before, when she and Fitz were given a special hearing to decide if they should graduate early.

It feels like holy ground she should not be trespassing on.

“We'll take you back to headquarters, if that's what you want. Or you can stay here, and we'll set you up as much as we can.”

They look like they're not sure what the answer is, either. Grant and Kara, flanking her, exchange looks.

The room watches Callie, looking down towards her lap – the others seem to defer to her, despite the fact that most of them have been here long before Callie defected, and then defected again. Jemma's not surprised Callie's in charge. Rather, she just fears for her.

Callie looks up. “What do you think we should do?”

She's not that much younger than Jemma, really. But.

“You know,” Jemma says, voice hushing on its own. “Fitz kicked up such a fuss when I said I wanted to go into the field. He thought our best work could be done within four walls, under a roof, surrounded by equipment and routine and safety. But even he admitted that there's more work to be done out in the world than we can possibly imagine. You can't stay here forever. You can't stay holed up, waiting for something terrible to happen. You have to take control.”

She breathes.

“We should go to the Playground,” Callie murmurs.

“Is it really better there? Better than being here?” Thomas asks. There's so much laden in his question: _do you still feel as desperate as we feel here? Do you wish you'd stayed behind? Can you find a family there, or is it just another streak of anonymity in the vastness that was SHIELD? Who will we be there? Who can we be?_

“I don't know,” Jemma says. “But the truth of it is, we're all just looking for a second chance at this. You barely got your first one. If you want to find out what SHIELD was supposed to be to you, there's nowhere else to start.”

 

 

 

 

 

They take a vote.

Unanimous.

“You should know,” Jemma warns, “for an American, Coulson's not big on democracy.”

Grant stifles a snort.

They don't care. The kids are going home.

 

 

 

 

 

“Wait,” Callie says. Jemma looks up from the inventory list. “What about Operations and Communications?”

“Status unknown,” Jemma responds. “We haven't been up there yet.”

“We should go,” Callie pleads, and she sounds more energized than she has the entire time they've seen her.

“We plan to,” Kara remarks, swinging by to catch a seat next to Jemma. “After we drop you off at HQ.”

“We should go _with_ you.”

“Ducklings,” Grant says automatically. The three women swing their heads his way. “Twelve little ducklings waddling behind us, slowing us down and getting into trouble.”

“They're people, Ward,” Jemma says. “Trained agents.”

“Half-baked,” he argues. “No offense, Hannigan.”

“None taken, G.I. Joe.”

“Plus. I mean. They're Sci Tech.”

“Your point?” Jemma says testily.

“Ops cadets would be more useful.”

“And if we find any, we can take them along too,” Jemma stings. “Besides, who better to explore than scientists?”

Grant ignores her preening. “This is a bad idea. Kara?”

“Simmons is the boss. I'll do whatever she does.”

He frowns. “That used to be me.”

“You were never the boss of me, Grant.”

This isn't strictly true, but Grant ignores it in favor of safer waters. “It's too conspicuous.”

“Not if we split up,” Jemma says suddenly. They look at her. “Teams of five, one of us with four of them. We'll lead them and teach them as we go, and they'll provide support and manpower. Then we bring everyone back at once.”

“You think there are holdouts at Ops and Comms?” Callie asks.

Jemma smiles softly at her. “You stuck around, didn't you? The three Academies really aren't that different. We all wanted the same things.”

“I'll talk to everyone, get them onboard,” Callie says, getting up to rush out and find the others.

“I still think this is a bad idea,” Grant says, cheeks stuff with lo mein. “For the record.”

“Noted,” Jemma says dryly.

 

 

 

 

 

And it's not a bad _idea_. Its execution, however, is a different story.

Grant’s team is the one that gets pinned down. He was having trouble buckling into that sharp-corners person that he was, the one that knows how to lead a team. He hasn’t corralled a bunch of bumbling kids in a while.

He doesn’t usually have trouble like this.

Communications is entirely HYDRA. They could tell purely by the bustle of activity, cars going in and out, soldiers roaming. Unsurprising, when you think about it, considering the spread of the encoded message that started it all. _We should fall back_ , Jemma is saying into the radio. But HYDRA is in front of him. The thing he supposedly was. The thing that took Kara for a puppet. The thing that drove these kids into battle. It’s right here. The world is sickly sharp and sticky black, and his scars itch. And it’s all right here.

Grant goes running and the kids follow.

Simmons knows well enough to stop screeching into the radio when they’ve gotten close enough. They shimmy into a (blessedly larger) air duct and Grant finds them a place to drop down, schematics glowing on his tablet. Waiting.

“You two keep watch. Anyone gets too close, signal me.” The two, a girl and a boy, small enough to fit in his damn pockets, nod. He motions for the other two to follow him.

The electrical bay is the kind of thing Fitz would have a field day over, but it looks like minefield to Grant. “You two geniuses have any ideas?”

One of them, a dark-skinned, bright-faced girl named Lily, raises an eyebrow. “Just start ripping shit out.”

Thomas shrugs, nods.

“You must be engineers, then,” Grant mutters. But he follows their lead.

Destroy as much as possible in the time they have. Then get everyone out. Doesn’t matter that he doesn’t know what he’s doing, doesn’t matter that the kids are whooping and hollering like they’re taking something back, doesn’t matter that they’re about to be caught here—he’d rather drown than stop.

Jemma’s shouting into the radio again. So is Kara.

_Half-baked_ , he’d called them. Unfinished. Not unlike himself.

The two he left to keep watch come running back, eyes wide, guns clumsily drawn. “They’re coming!” the girl breathes.

Grant takes a few more blind swipes at wires and buttons for the lights finally give out, and then he starts to lift them up back into the air duct, get them to safety before—

“ _Stop!”_

You can imagine how it goes from there.

 

 

 

 

 

“That was reckless and irresponsible. You put them at risk as well as yourself.”

“I know.”

Jemma remembers his face after the Beserker staff. This is similar. But she can’t stop. This is her job. “Lily’s got a slug in her thigh and another ripped through Curtis’ shoulder.”

“I was supposed to keep them safe,” he says quietly.

“You were supposed to follow my orders, not drag a bunch of children into a HYDRA nest.”

“I didn’t mean for them to come with me.”

“You just meant to tear up yourself?” Kara asks, coming down sharply behind him, voice making him jump.

“I just had to.”

He’s a whisper – he’s become a whisper. Tissue-thin and caving. Kara’s hand cups the back of his neck in support as she sighs.

“No one died,” Jemma mutters. At least no one died. At least they’re that lucky.

“I just had to—”

“Take control?” she finishes.

He nods numbly. “I’m sorry I didn’t follow orders.” Like a guilty little boy awaiting punishment.

“Do that again and we’ll have to put an end to this. You don’t want that, do you?”

He looks her in the eye, directly, finally. “No.”

Jemma bows her head, sloping into a sort of communal deference, open to both of them. They are a team now. “We’re going to take these kids home. Then we’re going to sort ourselves out. Okay?”

Kara and Grant exchange gentle looks. Then they nod.

Jemma wraps her arms around him, fast and tight, and she catches one of Kara’s arms too.

They can heal. They can.

 


	4. i can be anyone.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EPILOGUE: Jemma calls May back for assistance.

queen of no identity.  
a living myth. a real fake. 

**i can be anyone.**

 

May gets the jet out to them within four hours. A sweat’s broken out over the back of her neck, but no one can tell but her. No one can tell but her. That’s probably the worst part.

Jemma calls two weeks into a two month op, babbles something about ducklings and gunfire, and then simpers: _could you pick us up, please?_.

And like a mother taking her child home drunk from a party, May is relieved to be asked.

She probably shouldn’t have kicked the door down, though.

The safehouse is so fully teeming with activity that no one but Jemma, who knew she was close to arriving, even notices. A rowdy group of young people, however, is shouting at the television, popcorn-stuffed fists pumping.

“Did I worry you?” Jemma asks as May breathes hard, taking in the incongruous sight. “I didn’t mean to, I was a bit off it to be honest.”

“What happened?”

“I found some kids,” Jemma says simply.

“I can see that,” May grits. “Don’t play around, Jemma.”

“I found twelve Sci Ops students who held out against HYDRA for months and have been waiting for us to find them,” Jemma charges, with such a sudden intensity May is surprised. Though she doesn’t show it. “I need you to bring them home.”

May thinks this over, taken aback at the idea that her role today truly is just driving the Bus. “They agreed to come back to base with you?”

“With you,” Jemma says. “I still have work to do. And Ward and Kara aren’t allowed back in yet.”

“Yet?”

“Yet,” Jemma persists. “The cadets need you to show them how to survive at the Playground. They need you to remind them that this life doesn’t have to be about fumbling from one tragedy to the next. That they have a purpose and can still do good work.”

Jemma’s talking like she knows May can accomplish those things. Like they’ve been done before.

Melinda swallows hard. “They need you, too.”

“May, Communications was entirely HYDRA.” Anxiety seeps red-hot into May’s skin. “Grant made a dent a few days ago but not enough to cripple them for good. We haven’t even seen what they’ve done to Operations yet, or any of the other bases that might still be functional anywhere in the world. I’m not done yet. These kids are just the first step.”

These kids are the bright future. Just like Jemma has always been.

“You need to take them. I’ll be home in six weeks.”

“I have a feeling that’s not entirely true,” May challenges, one eyebrow raised.

“Am I lying?” she asks.

May sighs. “See you in six weeks.”

“Which one of you twerps busted the door down?! Oh. Hey, May,” Kara says, answering her own question. “Come to take the scientists off our hands?”

“Appears so,” May affirms.

“Grant!” Kara calls. May tries not to seem uncomfortable.

He exits a back room and joins them in the miniscule kitchen. “May,” he greets.

“What happened to you?” she asks, eyeing the sling around his arm.

“HYDRA,” he says gruffly.

“Yeah, what else is new,” Jemma mutters. Grant shoots her a dirty look. “He was shot in the arm trying to protect a group of cadets from HYDRA operatives inside Communications.” She says it like May should be impressed. Like that doesn’t sound exactly like the person she knew Grant Ward to be before all of this shit hit the fan.

He shoots another look to Jemma, this time alarmed; and Jemma looks back sternly. May almost rolls her eyes, but instead she gives him an unaffected nod. He’s not out of the woods yet, though Jemma seems intent on leading him.

But he has potential. Maybe they can teach him how to survive at the Playground, too. Maybe not everything is lost.

“Can you stay a while, May?” Jemma asks, big-eyed look blowing right through her.

“A little while,” May mumbles her concession.

Jemma smiles. Then she turns to the crowd.

“Oy, you lot! Who wants to meet a legend?”

 


End file.
